


The Christening

by FloreatCastellum



Series: Marauder Moments [11]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24128053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloreatCastellum/pseuds/FloreatCastellum
Summary: When Lily wrote to her sister to announce the birth of Harry, and to tell her that a christening was being arranged already for September, she did not hear back.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Series: Marauder Moments [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1474679
Comments: 22
Kudos: 136





	The Christening

She was an aunt now, and James was an uncle, and it was for that reason they found themselves in the flowery, pristine living room of number 4, Privet Drive. Lily was devoutely thankful that Vernon had decided to return to work so soon, but Petunia still seemed rather irritable with her, and she still felt as though she were walking on eggshells around her.

‘He’s beautiful, Tuney,’ she said warmly, bouncing the baby slightly in her arms. He didn’t have a lot of hair, but Lily could see it had the same golden shine as Petunia’s. ‘He’s going to be such a handsome boy.’

‘Yes,’ said Petunia smugly, watching with a glowing look. ‘He really is the most perfect baby, you know, I couldn’t ask for better. Life changes, you know, once you become a mother - there’s no one in the world more important than him. No one.’

‘What was it like?’ Lily asked. ‘Giving birth? I’m sick with nerves.’

Petunia’s eyes looked down with distaste at Lily’s own, rather significant bump. ‘Oh, yes… well I’m sure you’ll be fine.’

Lily rather worried that Petunia saw it as trying to redirect the conversation back to her, which wasn’t the case at all, but in all honesty Lily was eight months pregnant now so the topic was hard to avoid.

‘You got pregnant very quickly, didn’t you?’ said Petunia abruptly. ‘I mean, you’re very young.’

Lily blinked at her. ‘I… yes, I suppose, but I’m sure it will be all right. You’re not much older than me, Tuney.’

‘No, but I did things properly,’ she said sharply. ‘I planned it all out and made sure I had a house and-’

‘We have a house,’ said Lily, surprised. ‘I don’t know why you won’t come and visit, I think you’d like it, Tuney, it’s so pretty there-’

‘It’s a very long way,’ Petunia said tersely. ‘And it won’t be possible, now that I have a baby to look after.’

‘I’m sure he won’t mind, will you, Dudley?’ said Lily, crooning down at him. ‘You can come and visit your cousin out in the countryside and you can both play together.’

‘What if it’s like you?’ Petunia hissed.

‘Magical?’ said Lily coldly. ‘Yes, he or she probably will be.’

‘Well, I don’t want Dudley growing up around that sort of thing.’

‘Never did you any harm,’ said Lily dryly. ‘You will come, won’t you? To visit when I have my baby? It will be lovely, Tuney - they’re going to be so close in age, it seems silly to not let them get to know one another.’

‘They won’t remember each other yet, no when they’re babies,’ said Petunia stiffly.

‘Yes, but you know what I mean. I’ve been so excited to meet Dudley, and I’m sure you’ll be the same when you meet your niece or nephew too.’

Petunia gave an odd jerk of the head. ‘Yes, I suppose. It’s different, because I had my baby first, but… yes.’

‘So you’ll come?’ asked Lily. ‘To Godric’s Hollow? Because, I’m really sorry, Tuney, but I think it might become harder and harder for us to come and visit - it’s not safe for us, at the moment, so I really think you would have to come to us to meet him. Or her.’

‘I’ll… think about it,’ said Petunia.

‘Lily,’ said James, from his position tensely leaning against the door frame. ‘We need to go.’

‘A little longer,’ said Lily, who was enjoying holding her squirming nephew. ‘Don’t you want to hold him?’

James gave her a strained smile. ‘I’d love to, but Professor Dumbledore could only offer us a couple of hours protection here…’

‘Come on, don’t be grumpy - meet your nephew. Get some practice in for holding babies.’

Petunia looked furious that Lily was offering up her son as practice, her expression was like thunder as James gave a slight sigh, crossed the room and took the little baby. Clearly despite himself, he grinned. ‘Hello, little man,’ he said fondly. ‘Look at you, handsome boy - he’s got some chunky arms on him, hasn’t he?’

‘He’s a healthy weight,’ snapped Petunia.

‘I - yeah - I know, I was just - I didn’t mean-’

But Petunia rose from her seat, and took her son back out of James’s arms. He looked apologetically at Lily, but she gave him a tiny, reassuring shake of the head. It was impossible not to offend Petunia sometimes.

‘Help me up, would you?’ she said to James, for her stomach was so large now that it was difficult to do much at all. He took her hands and heaved her up, and she tried to smile in an exasperated way at Petunia, hoped they could relate to what the last days of pregnancy were like, but her sister said nothing.

‘We should go now,’ Lily said to her gently. ‘Petunia, please think about what I said.’

‘I will,’ she said stiffly. ‘Thank you for coming.’

‘Mum wouldn’t have wanted us to drift apart. She said that in her letter, remember?’

Petunia’s eyes flashed with anger, and Lily wondered if maybe she had gone too far, bringing up the letter their mother had written to them when she knew she was dying. All the same, Mum had written that, and Lily had tried, over and over again, where Petunia had not.

‘He really is beautiful,’ Lily told her. ‘Congratulations again.’

When Lily wrote to her sister to announce the birth of Harry, and to tell her that a christening was being arranged already for September, she did not hear back.

***

‘Lily, she’s not coming,’ came James’s voice, so clearly trying to be gentle, but edged with impatience.

She did not turn to look at him, but glanced down at the dark-haired baby asleep in her arms, the flowing white gown draped over her arms. She looked back towards the gate.

‘Lily,’ said James again, and his voice was desperate now, ‘we can’t linger any longer - please get him inside.’

She tore her eyes away from the gate, nodded and turned, carrying her child up the path, flanked by Order members with their wands out, towards the church. James’s arm wrapped around her protectively, and she glanced up at the old stone, the little carvings and twisted gargoyles, the square tower that housed bells. She had been married here, attended a few midnight mass services at Christmas time with James and his family, had enjoyed the little summer fetes they put on, and each time the bells had rung out joyfully. Not long ago, she had been here when the bells had been still and silent, but the thick walls had been comforting, so many people squeezed in to hold one another as they cried for Mr and Mr Potter. But suddenly, with her vulnerable, precious child in her arms, the place seemed less of joy or comfort and more of desperate, pleading sanctuary.

The eyes of the Order members did not look at her as they passed them - their wands remained out, their gazes fixed beyond the churchyard, looking out for any risk, Dumbledore’s orders binding them to the role of guard, rather than the guests they might have been otherwise. Only Remus chanced a glance and a small, reassuring smile and nod at her as she passed him, before turning back.

The church was empty and the air cold and stale, generations, perhaps hundreds of years, of worshippers and events of life and death, but now just the priest, James, their son and Sirius alone in the rather dim room, punctuated with bursts of colour from the stained glass window, the pews empty.

The priest had not been told why they needed only the very bare bones of the ceremony, why they did not have guests or pauses for hymns or photographs out in the churchyard afterwards. But though Godric’s Hollow was not entirely wizarding, there were enough witches and wizards here that Lily rather thought that he knew something, and he did not question them, nor the people stood outside carrying wands.

She brought Harry up to the worn, carved stone font behind which the priest stood, and glanced down into the water, before looking back at her son. James stood alongside her, Sirius on the other side of him. Suddenly the world seemed very quiet and still.

‘Dearly beloved,’ the priest began, his voice gentle yet firm. As he spoke, reciting words he must have said for hundreds of babies, Lily looked down at her son and watched as the noise of it slowly roused him, until he was blinking up at the arched beams of the church roof, the sunlight filtering through the stained glass throwing shards of red and green over him.

‘Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of God…’

He had no idea what lay ahead of him, none of them did, really, but for now he was watching the ancient dust of the church dance in the pretty light, resting peacefully in his mother’s arms, his family around him.

She wished, very much, that Petunia had decided to come after all, that the family might have been a little bigger, because she thought that Harry might have a lonely life ahead of him and it would have been nice if he could have had an aunt to rely on, a little connection to the muggle world that he could vanish into if needed.

‘Give thy Holy Spirit to this Infant, that he may be born again, and be made an heir of everlasting salvation…’

She could hear Sirius speaking now, making solemn promises in archaic language, but she was barely listening, still looking down into Harry’s perfect little face, his eyes, starting to shift to green like hers, looking curiously back up at her.

‘I will,’ she heard Sirius say.

The priest began to speak again, and though she continued to stare down at her son without really listening, she understood the patterns of it all, knew when to murmur ‘amen’ with the others.

‘Grant that he may have power and strength, to have victory, and to triumph against the devil, the world, and the flesh.’

‘Amen,’ she said with the others, and beside her she heard James’s voice crack slightly. She looked up at him, and saw that he had closed his eyes, swaying slightly, and she knew that he too was in agony as they wondered what lay ahead.

The priest looked at Lily, and though she felt reluctant she placed Harry carefully in his arms, then stepped back with a nervousness and a strong desire to snatch him back.

‘Parents and godfather, name this child,’ said the priest.

‘Harry James Potter,’ they answered.

The priest lowered her son to the font, and he cried at the strange angle and as the coolness of the water touched his dark hair, and as the priest cupped some of the water in his hands and trickled it over her son’s forehead, Harry’s cries echoed around the church.

‘I baptize thee in the name of the Father…’

Lily watched as a droplet of water slipped down her son’s wrinkled forehead, and she felt a great and terrible fear of the life that he might lead, whether it be brief or terrible, and a great sorrow that she, somehow, had inflicted it upon him. James grasped her hand. A little sign of the cross was made on their son’s head, and the prayers echoed around them as they watched and learned what fear really was.

The Lord’s Prayer echoed in her head as they left, hurrying back down the path to the gate, still flanked on either side by people that might have been well wishers if things were different, unable to stop for congratulations or fuss, James’s left hand protectively on her back with his wand arm out, Sirius on the other side of her, rushing back to the safety of their house.

_‘Our Father, which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy Name…’_

‘Here,’ said James roughly, and he threw his invisibility cloak over Lily and Harry. ‘Now quickly-’

They went through the little gate and back onto the cobbled road, which even in the glorious early September sun felt dangerous and exposed. They left their guard behind them, though as they walked through the little streets of the village centre, Lily kept spotting faces she recognised, strategically positioned on their route home.

_‘Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven…’_

Harry began to cry again; she was walking too fast. ‘Shh, shh, shh,’ she said softly. ‘It’s all right, it’s going to be all right…’

‘Muffliato,’ muttered Sirius from her left. ‘Nearly there, don’t worry…’

They turned down onto Forge Lane; Mad-Eye Moody sat on the sign for it, and he nodded curtly at them.

‘Nearly there,’ said James brightly. ‘And Batty said she’d join us later, and Remus and Peter.’

‘Yes,’ she breathed. ‘That’ll be nice. Won’t it, Harry? Yes. Shh… shh…’

_‘Give us this day our daily bread…’_

They were at the house now, though she still felt too afraid to breathe a sigh of relief. James hopped over the low garden wall and hurried ahead to open the door; Sirius stayed close to her, his hand on her invisible elbow, glancing over his shoulder at the empty street behind them.

‘OK, in,’ he said, and she went through the gate and up the garden path, to the front door that James held open for her.

_‘And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us…’_

About 150 miles away, Petunia wrestled her own son into his high chair, pinching his chubby little cheeks and squealing nonsense words at him. She went over to the fridge, and as her hand touched the handle, she spotted the christening invitation stuck up there with magnets. It was today, she realised.

_‘And lead us not into temptation..’_

No need to have it up anymore - there was no need to deliberate it any longer. She pulled the card swiftly down, and tossed it into the bin without a second thought.

_‘…But deliver us from evil.’_

Sirius closed the door behind them, for James was too busy pulling the cloak off Lily, and pulling her into an embrace, their child between them. He kissed her firmly on the forehead, and then ducked down to do the same to his son.


End file.
